


being true.

by xbrittniex3



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e12 Malec, Internalized Homophobia, Self Harm, and, just in case, should probably put a trigger warning for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbrittniex3/pseuds/xbrittniex3
Summary: With his wedding to Lydia in less than twenty-four hours, Alec is struggling to keep up his strong facade. He could lose everything if he walks away now. Sometimes he wonders if it'd be worth it, to just walk away. Sometimes he wants to. And sometimes, he has a brilliant younger sister to help guide him when he feels lost.





	being true.

**Author's Note:**

> another tiny drabble from me! originally posted on my tumblr (lewisfrays) last night, but we'll post it here too. anyway. this conversation is meant to happen the night before The Wedding in 1x12, so. angsty alec abounds.so um, enjoy? <3

His fists collide on the punching bag over and over again. He can’t feel the pain anymore, but he knows it should hurt, and somehow that works just as well. His knuckles feel raw, even through the wrapping around his hands. He’d been at it for too long. What had begun as a simple training was ending in years of frustration and repression being taken out on his own hands. Because this? This kind of pain? This was something he could control.

“Alec, what the hell are you doing?”

Izzy’s voice almost doesn’t register through the turmoil in his head. It’s too loud in there, with thoughts of what could be, and what could never be. It takes a while to realize she’s there. When he does notice, he stops and reaches a hand out to stop the bag from swaying, and finally turns to look at her. Her eyes are fierce, and Alec knows that she knows he’s been there for a while.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Izzy,” Alec says before she can even open her mouth, as he walks off to the corner of the room to pick up the towel hanging over a chair. He wipes his face with it, a terrible attempt at making himself look somewhat presentable or at least a little less sweaty, then throws it over his shoulders as he turns to look at her again. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind, okay? Training helps me.”

“What you do isn’t training,” she says as she steps closer to him. She moves slowly, not wanting to ambush him, and lifts his hands with hers as she reaches him. She speaks quietly as she unwraps his hands, sighing as she comes in contact with the bruised and bloodied skin underneath. “You can’t keep holding everything in and then beating the hell out of a punching bag just to feel something, big brother.” Izzy takes her stele from her pocket, making an iratze on Alec’s skin, and watches as the skin on his knuckles heals.

“Yeah, well, this is…” Alec isn’t sure how he was going to finish the sentence. Easier? Less painful? He knows that this isn’t how he should deal with things, but he’s just so tired of keeping everything inside. They all have their things, Izzy says - maybe this is just his. Maybe he’s just doomed to a life of pain and misery. Well… the life of pain and misery he’d always known was his lot in life.

He takes his hands from Izzy and takes a seat on the steps. He can feel her eyes on him, and he knows she’s likely got a million things to say to him - and he can guarantee that he won’t like any of it - but he’s grateful that she’s being silent for the moment. Sometimes he needs time to gather his thoughts, to articulate what’s going on inside of his head - but without giving too much away.

“I want to believe, just for one second, that there isn’t something wrong with me.”

There, he’s said it. It’s out in the open. He knows Izzy doesn’t have to ask what he’s talking about - she’s always known. And despite her best intentions, everything she’s ever said on the subject hasn’t been able to assuage these overwhelming feelings of self-loathing. He’d thought that proposing to Lydia, that marriage to a successful woman, would give him everything he wanted. Sure, he wouldn’t be happy… but his family name would still have honor. And maybe, just maybe, he could be Head of the Institute, if he lied well enough about who he was and played his cards right.

Alec’s still not looking at her, so he doesn’t notice her hand going for his again until she’s squeezing it. She laces their fingers together, turning her head so that she’s not staring at him anymore. Again, he’s grateful. He doesn’t want to feel so put on the spot, not about this.

“There is nothing wrong with you.” At the tone of her voice, Alec is struck by how truly sincere she sounds. He wishes that he could believe her, believe that he was normal, believe that he could be happy. “The beauty of life, Alec, is that we’re all different. We’ve all got different struggles, different demons - both literal and metaphorical - that we’re facing. But being different doesn’t mean that you’re broken, or somehow less worthy.”

Izzy squeezes his hand again, and it’s then that Alec realizes he’s shaking. He’s spent more than twenty years playing the strong big brother, and he’s watching it fall apart before his very eyes. His younger sister has always been wise beyond her years, but he’s never appreciated it as much as he does right now. She leans her head against his shoulder, a solid foundation for him to rest upon as he holds back his tears and tries to be strong again.

“I know that you think that marrying Lydia is the best option,” Izzy begins again, “and I will support you no matter what you decide. But being true to who you are? That’s more important than our family honor. Mom and dad will get over it. I’ll be fine. You can’t just…” She pauses. “Sometimes, Alec, it’s okay to think of yourself first.”

Alec doesn’t know if he believes her, but he nods in understanding regardless. They sit there for a few more minutes, trading words and stories. Eventually, Izzy leaves him with a hand on his shoulder and a kiss to the top of his head. He knows she means well, but his wedding is tomorrow, and all of these extra thoughts are just adding to his extreme level of stress.

He could lose everything, he thinks, but is gaining the Institute, gaining that authority, worth anything if he loses himself in the process? He’s not sure anymore, and he’s got a lot to think about before the morning.


End file.
